Emma of the House of Violets
On the wall of every Clique Beauty Embassy hangs a “bright picture”. Each picture is unquestionably the centerpiece of each embassy. The original “Bright Picture” resides exclusively at Isa’s Beauty Embassy, and before that, it resided at the Beauty Embassy of CE, before that, and at one time or another, it existed in every coveted place of all ethnicities of the powerful coven.
The subject matter of the masterpiece is of course The Clique - every member dressed in their native garb and bedecked with jewels beyond recognition or cost. Next to each supreme seductress resides a substantial white candle holder at least two meters tall and a half meter in circumference at the base. Perched atop the candle holders, rests an ornate colored candle made of an ancient unknown wax. The enchanted flames from each range in hue; from the purest white to the perfect black.
Every virgo intacta stood proudly, without the blemish of maleness; staring beautifully defiant at someone or something. No sister of the Clique reclines in this masterpiece. In the hair of each beauty resides a single flower in perfect bloom. Behind them, a hideous black backdrop of mysterious cloth with reddish hues. The infinite folds of this alien textile appear to move. If you stare long enough you will see misery. Oddly, the ugly drape only adds to the beauty of the ancient painting.
Emma, as all Clique sisters, was immediately enraptured by the rendering of the masterpiece. Eight of the largest Amazonian women she had ever seen lovingly mounted her own magnum opus. The women sang in ancient tongues, ancient songs, while they delicately placed, by pulley and hemp, the huge masterpiece. Why use such an archaic method to hang such consolidated beauty? She momentarily thought.
Emma immediately noticed that her rendering was different from the one she saw at CE’s Beauty Embassy in Baton Rouge, Louisiana two days ago. For one thing, she held a place closer to the center in her painting. However, CE’s rendering had her standing closer to the edge of the group.
Incredulously, Emma video dialed Olivia on her cell phone and begged Olivia to show her Olivia’s bright picture exquisitely displayed in Olivia’s Beauty Embassy in Paris, France. Emma was astonished to see that the masterpieces were identical down to the brush strokes, but the positions of the members were again in different places; however, Emma’s likeness was extraordinarily captured by the master’s hand.
How could this be done so beautifully in so little time, and who did it? Emma thought as she excitedly talked with Olivia.
The two hung up after an hour of discussion singularly focused on their artwork. Olivia patiently answered all of Emma’s questions as best she could; but the more Emma asked, the more questions she had. For twenty-four hours Emma did not sleep; instead she was content to recline in a chair nearest the picture, where she held all her meetings and took her meals.
The following morning CE called and gently admonished Emma about not getting the proper amount of sleep.
“Sleep and beauty go hand and hand Darlin, they are two sides of the same coin.” CE concluded.
“Yes ma-am.” Emma responded, she knew CE was right, but the painting’s magnificence was beyond comprehension or words…why the change of position in each painting?
The next night Emma retired to her bed chamber mentally exhausted, but in a good way. The day had been great, and she accomplished many of the tasks she listed at breakfast. As she slept, Emma dreamt of the Bright Picture. Her mind perused the various subjects painted; each Clique member, the dreadful drape, and the elaborate candles on their substantial sticks. The ancient songs sang sweetly in her mind as she dreamt.
Emma awoke with a start and a realization; the songs the Amazonian women sang described the women in the painting! Some songs were ones of peace and love, others of sacrifice and pain, and a few of salvation and damnation. But the chorus, that dreadful chorus, was always the same, and it was about blood. Emma rose from her bed, grabbed her silk robe, and ran from her bed chamber suite. Down the stairs she went, the songs echoing in her head. She pushed through the door into the vast entryway of the Beauty Embassy where her Bright Picture resided.
Emma gazed upon her likeness and smiled as she remembered the songs, she quietly sang. The words were sweet, the sound hopeful, but Emma’s candle within the masterpiece, suddenly slipped from its perch, and tumbled to the floor. The brilliant violet flame flickered as it nearly extinguished itself. The gruesome black drape recoiled from the candle.
Emma heard terrible shrieks from the dreadful black curtain as it unexpectedly changed direction and moved toward her broken candle, prone on the floor, only its wick holding it together as its flame sputtered. The Clique members panicked eyes stared down at her fallen candle, none moved, except for one, her motion unnatural; she stared deeply into at Emma’s eyes and spoke…
Credit to the artist Vornacchia’s compelling rendering I found on the web. This drawing comes close to the essence of Emma of the House of Violets. I would like to offer Vornacchia an opportunity to create a rendering of Emma or of another one of my characters.